‘Lilith Fair: Building a Mystery’ Review: Music Doc Recalls a ’90s Festival That Made It Feel Like Women Might at Least Save Rock, if Not the World

The iconic Lilith Fair music festival, a defining cultural event of the late 1990s, took its name from the mythological figure Lilith—reimagined in modern feminist thought as a symbol of autonomy and resistance. Now, decades after its three-year run, the festival’s legacy is explored in the new Hulu documentary “Lilith Fair: Building a Mystery.” The film has captured the attention of a new generation, with pop sensation Olivia Rodrigo expressing amazement that such a large-scale, women-led festival—featuring many of her own musical heroes—once existed. Whether you experienced it live or are learning about it for the first time, the documentary evokes a strong sense of nostalgia for a brief but influential moment in music history.

Director Ally Pankiw traces the origins of Lilith Fair, which evolved from a simple idea into a national touring phenomenon. Sarah McLachlan—a multiplatinum-selling artist by the mid-90s whose album “Surfacing” included hits like “Building a Mystery” and “Angel”—defied music industry conventions by inviting fellow singer-songwriter Paula Cole as her opening act. This pairing challenged the male-dominated amphitheater circuit and led to a series of trial concerts in 1996, which quickly grew into the full-fledged Lilith Fair the following year. The tour’s sold-out shows and overwhelmingly female audiences drew significant media coverage, though much of it revealed ingrained sexism. Reporters asked condescending questions, and comedians like Jay Leno targeted artists with derogatory jokes, such as mocking Paula Cole’s appearance at the Grammys. As music historian Janis Rogers notes, “Lilith Fair wasn’t just a concert series—it was a direct challenge to an industry that underestimated both female artists and their audiences.”

Beyond the spotlight, the documentary highlights the sense of community that developed among the performers. The Indigo Girls, whom a young Jewel describes as “the soul of the tour,” often inspired impromptu collaborations, including a full-cast rendition of Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi.” Emmylou Harris recalls “pure, collective joy” backstage, while Erykah Badu remembers touring with her newborn and feeling supported during her postpartum recovery. For many involved, including producer Dan Levy, Lilith offered a refuge from the increasingly aggressive tone of late-90s rock. Still, the festival faced early and valid criticism over its lack of racial diversity, leading some to dub it “Lily-white Fair.” McLachlan and her team responded by intentionally booking more artists of color—including Missy Elliott and Badu—in subsequent years.

Not all challenges were met with consensus. When anti-abortion protesters targeted a Planned Parenthood booth at some venues, tour management initially barred artists from discussing abortion onstage—a rule Joan Osborne openly flouted by having her band wear pro-choice t-shirts. McLachlan reflects in the film that her desire to maintain harmony sometimes made it hard to take a firm stand on divisive issues. Despite these tensions, the overwhelming feeling conveyed is one of empowerment and solidarity. So why hasn’t Lilith Fair been successfully revived? A 2010 reboot attempt led by McLachlan struggled with weak ticket sales and canceled dates, a setback the documentary mentions only briefly. Some critics point to shifting musical trends—such as the declining commercial appeal of acoustic-based acts and the mainstreaming of pop feminism—as possible reasons. Yet, given ongoing gender disparities in radio airplay, especially in rock and country, and today’s polarized social climate, many viewers will finish the film wondering if the spirit of Lilith Fair—a space of joy, inclusion, and defiance—is needed now more than ever.